


A Penny's Worth of Thoughts [ON HIATUS]

by The_Dawn_Knight



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: BAMF Alfred Pennyworth, Bat Fam Fluff, Kid Bruce Wayne, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26418379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Dawn_Knight/pseuds/The_Dawn_Knight
Summary: My name is Alfred T. Pennyworth. X Operative and butler to the Wayne Organization. I answer the door. I clean up the estate and I take out the trash. And I also remove all obstacles in my Master’s way keeping him on the right path. Discreetly of course. Because the fate of the world depends on it.If I have to be honest... The fact that Bruce Wayne's life had turned out like this was... entirely my fault... Who knew my cold heart would grow so soft.**shoutout to TFS Hellsing Abridged for this summary**
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	A Penny's Worth of Thoughts [ON HIATUS]

The room was plush and elaborate. Any single thing in this room could afford a man a decent meal at an upscale restaurant. The soft colors, the pastels, were just how she liked it. She sat in a chair next to a decorative table sipping tea, waiting…

She glanced at the wind up clock on the mantle feeling nervous. Why should she be? She was the Queen. People should be nervous to meet her. Not the other way around. But still she was. She caught her hands shaking and she tightened the grip she had on her kerchief to stop them. She cleared her throat and sipped her tea frequently in an effort to keep her mind off it. The things she had heard about this man. The rumors that followed him like a shadow were the stuff of nightmares.

_When one calls for the devil he picks up the phone. Born from the wind, blowing through another's existence as seamlessly as leaves blow about the fields. He takes lives, he takes names, he embodies all things that end. Just as leaves fall and decay at the stumps of great trees, he was destined to decay under the weight of another man's name._

When she needed someone to do this job, she knew it had to be this legend... this myth… this man…

"My queen," her servant said softly when she sat her cup down a little too harshly. "You must calm yourse—."

"I know that," she snapped back and because she felt a bit insulted, she added, "And don't speak out of turn."

The servant quickly wiped up the small spill and stepped back against the wall.

Then…

She jumped at the softest of knocks on the door.

"Y… Yes," she answered.

One of her guards stepped in. "Your Highness, he is here."

"Good," she answered. "Good, send… Send him in. Now."

He stepped aside holding the door open and so the visitor could pass through.

He was younger than she had expected. A dark suit that went well with his soft eyes. He had pre-removed his hat in expectation of being before the Queen. His smiled was charming, almost sweetly, and she felt her face flush in spite of herself.

"Your Highness," he said, his voice was just as smooth as his stare. His mustache was short and parted perfectly, he clearly took great pride in his appearance. The shoulder's arched into a short curt bow.

"Are you… him?"

"I am the person you're expecting," he answered softly.

"Forgive me, they… they didn't give me your rank or even… your name."

"I have neither."

His words rang with a tone of politeness, but it seemed to echo a sense of supremacy. As though that fact made him apart of something bigger and better than the pitiable little title of Queen. It was not often that a man's words could make her feel so… trivial.

Abhorring the notion and rejecting the very feeling she defiantly retorted with a sharp, "Then what am I supposed to call you?"

She regretted it immediately when his smile widened ever so slightly, "Let's not waste both of our time, and get down to, why I am here."

Her highness nodded silently, and reached for a file seated on the tablecloth next to her tea. She opened it and with shaking hands she turned it to face the seat beside her. He did not move from his place in the middle of the room and she wondered in a panicked moment what he was planning. "Well… do you not wish to sit?"

"I would indeed."

"Then, by all means. Please join me," she answered.

"I thought you would never ask," he said gently, walking over he took a seat across from her and laid his hat upon the table.

He didn't take a seat, until invited to sit down… Decorum was not something she expected from a man with his reputation. She didn't know why the idea of this seemed to scare her and she watched him pick up the file skimming through it briefly before glancing at the pictures that had been paper-clipped to the inside of the folder. Four of them.

"You want them gone," he said subtly.

"Yes," she answered.

"They are in the states. Not even apart of your country," he responded. "Why do they agonize you so?"

"They have amassed great wealth, the sort of wealth people just don't acquire through good and just actions. Their crimes have started to spread and reach our shores. Horrific crimes. The sort I'm sure you can probably imagine. I will not have London turn into England's Gotham."

"I see… and these people are responsible for this."

"Yes."

"You're sure."

"…Yes."

"Would you steak your life on it?"

"…"

He looked up from the folder then examining her and she was a little taken aback. She wasn't aware that she would have to prove their crimes. No one had said he would ask this of her. "I don't understand what you're asking…"

"You are asking me to take lives your Highness. That is _my_ immortal soul on the line. My damnation. My sin."

"I wasn't aware a man like you believed in God," she said almost timidly.

"It would be foolish to think God doesn't exist and I have no absurd assumptions that there is any place for me in the gates of heaven. What I do, must be done and what I do is just about the grandest form of evil a single person can unleash upon the world. But it is dreadfully easy to be dismissive with a soul that isn't yours. You should think twice before asking another person to take a life. You should be hesitant when offering another's soul for the slaughter as you have done mine. You should… feel remorse. We all have to justify our actions when the end comes and I wonder what you will say about your actions today."

Why was he questioning this? Was it the child? She figured that could be the only explanation for his protests. After all the things she had heard him do. Children was where he drew the line? Scoffing slightly she shot back at him, "I take it you don't kill children?"

"I do."

He offered no more clarification that that and the finality of the statement panicked her and the fear itself enraged her. Feeling as though she had been played a fool she held back tears. "If you're unable to help me then… Then I'll… I'll just find someone else who can!"

She attempted to pull the file back from his arms but he held them firmly.

"Do let go, you'll rip the photo," his words were so eerily soft that time that she did not think twice about obeying.

He thoughtlessly straightened the edges as best he could. The child's picture was dented by her fingernail and he frowned at the untidiness of it.

"We shall both suffer greatly for the events transpiring today, I have long since accepted the consequences for my actions both past and future. I am merely asking your Highness, if you have."

She frowned at that. Her eyes were still brimming with tears and she nodded curtly. The official go ahead. With a single nod, she sealed her own fate, as well as his.

"I see. What exactly do you wish from me. Say it aloud. Engrave it in your soul," he demanded.

She took a deep breath, "I want every single Wayne dead. And I want to ensure that Alfred Pennyworth never joins the Wayne family, end him as well."

"That is all I need to hear then, I shall get to my work, and I'll get a hold of you via letter when I have finished. After that day, you will not make contact with me again."

He stood without bowing and placed the files back on the table before he grabbed his hat. He placed it on his head before remarking swiftly, "I'll see you in Hell your Highness."

Leaving without being dismissed…

Wearing a hat in her presence…

His respect for her was clearly gone.

A small price to pay to remove the world's greatest threat.

* * *

Set back in a wooded estate on the outskirts of Gotham resided the Wayne manor. Numerous rooms of varying uses. A ballroom for hosting parties, a lounge for entertaining guests. A library filled with all the knowledge collected by the Wayne family over the years. They were aristocracy, they were socialites, they were...

Their was middle aged man on a bus, on his way to that very manor. He was dressed as any butler would be, white wing collar dress shirt, black tie, grey vest, a morning coat, gloves, cufflinks, grey stripped trousers, complete with a pocket watch. He was a bit overweight, and happily so. The remnants of a smile was on his lips even as he stared off into space waiting for the bus to arrive at his stop.

"You seem happy," asked the man beside him. The stranger was cloaked in a trench coat.

"I am Sir," he responded.

"Why is that? If you don't mind my asking," the stranger was interested in him and he wondered vaguely if the man was having a bad day. He knew all too well that sometimes hearing about why someone else was happy, was just the thing to cure your own bad day.

"I am fulfilling a favor to my late Father," he indulged. "I didn't get to be there when he passed, but I'm happy to honor his memory by taking up his mantle and serving the family he took care of."

"A butler, are you?"

"I am indeed."

"I thought I had seen that getup somewhere before," the stranger laughed.

"Where are you headed?" he asked in return. It was only proper when a stranger showed interest in your life that you return the favor.

"The green mile," he responded.

"The green… I've never heard of that," he said considering it.

"That's alright, I think this is our stop anyway," the stranger said. "Right? Pennyworth?"

He said it so calmly, and with no sense of subtlety that the butler had checked the address, their location along the bus route, and pulled the cord to stop the bus, before he realized the stranger had said his name. He had said his name, without his offering it. This stranger knew him.

Following the stranger off the bus on the abandoned street corner, he lumbered down the walk after him watching the bus take off.

"Excuse me stranger," Pennyworth said rushing over to him. "How did you know my name?"

"I'm very intuitive Sir," he responded.

"Well, we should be properly introduced regardless," he held his hand out for the stranger to shake. "I am Alfred Pennyworth. May I know yours?"

"Sure," the man said smiling. He sat down his own suitcase and removed his jacket slowly from his shoulders. The stranger was dressed in a wing collar dress shirt, black tie, grey vest, a morning coat, gloves, cufflinks, grey stripped trousers, complete with a pocket watch. The other's eyebrows rose in confusion as the strangers hand extended out shaking his own firmly. "My name is Alfred Pennyworth."

He was pulled violently forward, a quick swipe with the knife in his hand the other's throat was slit. His eyes bulged and he dropped the suitcase in his hand. The stranger reached into the other's coat pockets removing its contents which he replaced in his own. He took the man's wallet as he fell to the ground and the stranger removed the grate leading down into the sewers. He pushed the man's body into it. Though a touch overweight, he was just thin enough to fall into it without a fuss, and he replaced the grate. There was minimal blood on the sidewalk. He had been quick enough and had made sure the man fell in such a way that it went down his front rather than having it leak onto the concrete. That amount of blood would surely pass easily for having been an animal scuffle.

Alfred Pennyworth was dead.

And now, Alfred Pennyworth had a job to get to. He checked his watch briefly before picking up both suitcases and hurrying up the sidewalk. He looked the part as he approached the Wayne manor. Politely he removed his hat at the door before ringing the bell. Then he waited. A moment later it opened.

_Show time._

"Good morning, I am Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth. I have come to this manor at the bequest of my late father Jarvis Pennyworth. May I speak with the heads of the house?"

The maid that had answered ushered him through the manor doors. He waited mere minutes for an audience which he found a little odd. Thomas Wayne was a busy man, to not make him wait, even for a short time. What did that say of his relationship to the late Jarvis?

"You're Alfred?" Thomas said glaring at him when he came down the stairs.

Alfred got to his feet extending a hand which Thomas didn't take, so he pulled back letting the offered hand rest upon the jacket draped across his arm.

"What are you doing here?"

"My Father sent me," Alfred said. "Well… more so he made a request of me. That if something were to happen to him, I should come and take care of the Wayne family in his stead."

"Really? How did he notify you?"

"A letter Sir, would you like to read it?"

Thomas held his hand out and Alfred pulled the letter from his inner pocket. Thomas folded it open and read it quickly, "My dear son Alfie, blah blah blah, in my old age I fear my biggest regret is having no suitable worker to see to the Wayne family affairs after my passing, blah blah a lot of familial bull shit. If something should happen to me, please see to them until a proper replacement can be summoned."

He held the paper back out to him looking rather annoyed.

"Your father told you nothing else?"

"A phone call now and then," he admitted. "Prior to his passing. Obviously. But we conversed mostly through letters. Sir, I am more than prepared to work in my Father's place until you find someone more suitable or if you wish. I am willing to attend to this family on a more permanent basis. My respect for my father and in turn my respect for you is high."

"Fine," he said. "When do you wish to start?"

"Immediately?" He answered.

"Audry," Mr. Wayne called to a maid not far away. "See Alfred to Jarvis' old room."

"Yes Sir," the maid answered. "Follow me."

She headed off quickly and Alfred followed memorizing the halls as he went. They had gone up a flight or two before she opened the door at the end of the hall. "This is it, you're welcome to do with his things as you please. I was told you were his only family so no one else should be by to claim anything."

"Thank you," he answered before setting his suitcase down. She hurried back to her things.

 _Too many people_. That was his first thought. He would not be able to carry out his mission here. It would have to be somewhere else, after he had built up a rapport with the staff and the heads of the house. It would be too suspicious after all to have the entire family killed the very night a new staff member was hired.

"You're not Jarvis."

The soft voice called his attention and he turned to the door seeing a small boy peeking in.

"And who are you?" he asked.

_He knew who he was._

"I'm Bruce," he said leaning in a little further. "You know, this is Jarvis' room…"

"Yes it is," he answered. "It's mine now however."

The boy walked inside, uninvited, and climbed up onto his bed. "Jarvis would let me play in here."

"Would he now?"

"All the time," Bruce answered.

"Well then, you may continue to do so if you wish," he responded. He began to put his belongings away.

Bruce smiled at that crossing his legs he looked around the room. "Why are you in his room?"

"I'm taking over his position. Jarvis was my late Father you see."

Bruce looked up at him frowning, "You don't look like him…"

"Don't I?" he smiled as he put the last of his spare uniforms away in a drawer. "I suppose I do take a bit more after my Mother."

"I look like my Mother," Bruce said happily. "I got her blue eyes. See."

He reached up using his fingers to open his eyes as wide as he could.

"That you do," he answered softly feeling slightly annoyed by the child's presence. He didn't like children. They were needy, dependent, and tended to make noises and mess for no reason at all. He picked up a set of morning coats which he hung up in the closet. They weren't his size, but he could sew them later to fit.

A sharp gasp behind him made him pause in sorting his things, but he didn't turn until he heard the child whisper, "That's sharp…"

Alfred turned. Bruce was holding one of his titanium spiral daggers and his thumb was bleeding.

"Owie…"

"Now why did you go touching something that doesn't belong to you?" the man asked walking over he removed the knife from his hand placing it in the drawer by his bed, and then he pulled the child's hand close to examine the cut. "That's hardly nothing at all."

He walked over to his jacket reaching into an inside picket that had a small bandage roll and he returned to Bruce's side wrapping it tightly. "There all better."

"Why do you have a knife?" Bruce asked frowning a little.

"Sometimes it is necessary to cut things," he explained to the child. "But not our fingers, so let's be careful when we're around knives. Alright?"

"Okay."

"How about you run along, I have things I have to see to in order to get settled in," he explained.

"Can I have some hot chocolate later?" the boy asked after Alfred had led him to the door.

"I'm sure one of the other servants would be happy to get it for you."

"But I want _you_ to bring it. Jarvis used to make the best hot chocolate in the whole world, you're his son. So you can make it too right?" Bruce pointed out smiling and then the smile faltered, "I miss it."

He stared at the boy whose expression had fell suddenly as the memories of his late servant came back to him. "If that is your wish, Master Bruce."

His face lit up and he hurried off with a happy, "Thank you!"

Children were annoying, and greedy. They so rarely thought about others and they consumed necessary resources that might otherwise be used on people who can give back to society. Though he understood that people had to go through that ridiculous child phase before they could be of any use to the world as a whole. Yet so many grew out of this stage and still continued to not give back. To not be of use. He disliked children. He disliked people too for that matter.

Weeks without use had left the place dusty. So he set to work cleaning the dust from the room's furniture all the while pondering on just how he would kill the boy.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is on a temporary Hiatus so I can focus on my other Batman stories. However, if enough people review and show interest in this story I'll be happy to remove it from it's [ON HIATUS] status. Otherwise I'm going to focus on the stories that people are interested in first, but I will return to this one eventually.
> 
> **I will try to make sure this gets at least two Chapters before the Hiatus officially instates. To give people a decent chance to like or dislike the plot**


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